Love Is No Longer For Children
by firecracker189
Summary: "Still think love is for children?" He asks softly, gently caressing her shoulder. "I never did." She whispers, barely audible. "I knew you didn't." He leans closer, capturing her in his arms.


"For the last time, Stark : no. I am not going clubbing with you."

Tony leaned over the back of the couch where Natasha was lounging, Clint's head in her lap, watching a holiday special on the classic movies channel. She'd picked it in hopes that maybe Steve would finally find a movie he'd recognize.

"C'mon Tasha. Besides…" He grinned roguishly. "I bet you'd look hot out there on the dance floor in a little black dress… men everywhere dropping dead from close proximity to such ravishing beauty… Birdbrain in the corner salivating into his vodka…"

"I'm warning you, Stark, if you don't stop bugging me and go away, I will eviscerate you with the nearest sharp object." Natasha threatened, gaze unwavering from the television.

"Still…" Tony mused, taking a considerable step backward and stroking his goatee. "I wonder just how much money the public at large would pay to see the legendary Black Widow out there shaking her goodies for all to see…" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "At least drag Legolas here along for the ride. If you can get him drunk enough, I have the feeling the two of you would have a very interesting—"

"That's enough, Tony." Steve commanded from his armchair, a blush clearly visible upon his cheeks at Tony's insinuations. "Natasha can decide for herself. If she wants to go, she'll go. If she doesn't, then you'll just have to ask someone else."

"There you go again, sucking the fun out of everything!" Tony cried, hand coming up to his arc reactor in mock pain. "It wounds me, the lack of appreciation for fun in this household! Maybe Thor would be up for a night of clubbing… HEY BRUCE! Get your car keys! You're designated driver!" Grinning malevolently, he hurried out of the room.

LINEBREAK

Steve had abandoned ship 30 minutes in to Clint's Star Wars marathon, because there really was no reasoning with Clint when he got all worked up.

Natasha lounged across the couch, lazing in her sweats and New York Yankees t-shirt. Clint padded in from the kitchen, barefoot in his sweats and SHIELD issue t-shirt, carrying a deluxe, assassin-sized bowl of popcorn (and m and m's of course, because Natasha liked the sweet with the salty) and-

"Champagne?" She raised her eyebrows. "What's the occasion?"

He shrugged. "Figured since Stark's having his night out, we could have… a night in." Placing the bottle between his legs, he popped the cork, filling two glasses. Handing Natasha hers, he perched on the coffee table facing her, and held his glass out for a toast.

"Cheers."

"для Вашего здоровья." She sipped her champagne daintily, the blue light of the TV throwing into sharp relief the outline of Clint's well-toned body beneath the thin cotton shirt. She looked away, quickly gulping down the rest of her champagne.

Clint moved to sit beside her, filling her glass again, placing the bowl of popcorn atop their adjacent legs. The moments passed in comfortable silence, the bottle on the table slowly dwindling to empty, only the m and m's left in the bottom of the bowl.

"Hey, Tasha?" Clint lolled on the opposite end of the couch, legs parallel to hers.

"Yes?" The warm feeling of contentment alcohol provided sang through her veins.

"You ever think about marriage?"

She stiffened, although it lasted only momentarily before melting away in the after-effects of the champagne. She knew she was nowhere near as drunk as Clint was. After all, she had grown up drinking vodka—American champagne nowhere near compared with the strength of the Russian preferred beverage.

She made a non-committal noise deep in her throat, toying with the end of her glass.

"It'd be kinda nice, ya know? Settle down, live in one place, get a steady job. Nothing unpredictable, no crazy hours or sudden flights out of the country, you could just… be. Live. Exist. Focus all your energy on the one person that means the most to you…" Here he trailed off, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of her sweats. She admired the way the muscles rippled along his strong arms as his fingers absent-mindedly worked at the string. She reached out and nudged him gently with her foot. He looked up, pain visible in his eyes, it took one look and she knew.

He smiled, a smile layered with emotion, and suddenly the face of one so familiar became that of a stranger. Those eyes—eyes she had looked into every day for years—suddenly transformed into something both terrifying and yet at the same time intoxicating. She found herself unable to look away… She sat up, leaning closer, searching the depths of those eyes… Her hand covered her mouth, an inadvertent gasp escaping.

It had long been known by the population at large that Clint Barton was a man of little emotion. But it was also known that the seemingly cold and calculating agent had one weakness, one point of emotion. Her. His partner. His family. The only person to know the man behind the bow. With her there were no cold nods, clipped responses, useless platitudes or lies… he was simply Clint and she was Natasha.

"Clint…" She breathed, moving closer.

"Natasha." Her name left his lips in a soft breath, his hand coming up to cup her neck just under her ear, lips claiming hers in a desperate kiss.

She twined her fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss, leaning towards him. All she sensed in that moment was him, his lips on hers, his hands on her neck, setting every nerve on edge. He pulled back, smirking.

She gathered her breath, eyes locked on his, disappointed he'd stopped so soon.

"Still think love is for children?" He asks softly, gently caressing her shoulder.

"I never did." She whispers, barely audible.

"I knew you didn't." He leans closer, capturing her in his arms.

As the sun rises over Stark Tower, Natasha Romanoff laughs, pulling Clint closer, kissing him fiercely with joyous abandon. She has finally opened up to love. And she could never be happier….

**For those of you who're curious, (AKA not Russian), Natasha says "to your health" as she's toasting Clint.**

**Considering expanding into a two-shot...**

**Thoughts?**


End file.
